daughter, in wishing to follow thy father. Thou hast shown me much love. Who can expect me to live with this grief?’ Then they were silent for a while. Then Egil said ‘What is that, daughter? Dost thou chew anything?’ ‘I am chewing _samphire_ (sea-weed),’ she answered, ‘and I think that I shall suffer for it; otherwise I think I shall live too long.’ ‘Is it hurtful?’ asked Egil. ‘Very much so,’ said she; ‘wilt thou eat?’ ‘What does it matter?’ said he. Soon after she called and asked for drink. Water was then given her to drink. Then Egil said: ‘When one eats _samphire_, one gets more and more thirsty.’ ‘Wilt thou drink, father?’ said she. He took deep draughts from a horn. Then Thorgerd said: ‘We are deceived, this is milk.’ Egil bit from the horn what his teeth clutched, and threw it away. Thorgerd said: ‘What shall we do, now that this plan is upset? I should like, father, to lengthen our life, so that thou mightest compose a funeral poem on Bödvar, and I will carve it on a stick of wood; then let us die if we like. I think thy son Thorstein will be slow in making a poem on him, but it is not proper that there should be no funeral feast, for I do not think we shall sit at the drinking at his _arvel_.’ Egil said it was unlikely that he could make a poem then, even if he tried, but he would make an attempt” (Egil’s Saga). I give the leading stanzas of the poem. SONA-TORREK (the loss of sons).[334] It is very difficult To move my tongue, Or the heavy air Of the steel-yard of sound.[335] Now there is little hope Of the theft of Vidrir,[336] Nor is it easy to draw it Out of the hiding-place of the mind.[337] The silent find[338] Of the kinsmen of Thriggi,[339] Brought of yore From Jötunheimar Is not easily driven From the abode of the mind. Heavy sorrow Is the cause. The blameless Bragi Got famous On the boat Of Nokkver (a Dverg);[340] The wound[341] of the neck of the Jotun Roars Down at the door Of the house of my kinsman.[342] For my kin Has come near to its end Like the death-beaten Branches in the forest. The man is not merry Who carries The bones of his kinsmen From the place of dead bodies.[343] Nevertheless I recall first The death of my father, The death of my mother. That timber of song,[344] With words for leaves,[345] I bring out Of the temple of speech.[346]